


Predictable

by syrupwit



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, No Underage Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-02
Updated: 2019-06-02
Packaged: 2020-04-06 19:05:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19068805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/syrupwit/pseuds/syrupwit
Summary: As much as Peter admires the man -- still hero-worships him, even -- he is in some ways predictable.





	Predictable

**Author's Note:**

  * For [floweringbloom](https://archiveofourown.org/users/floweringbloom/gifts).



Five years ago, if Peter had been asked what Tony Stark could do to make Peter angry at him, he likely would have said: "Nothing!"

If he had been asked the same three years ago, the answer would have been: "Trying to bench me from superhero activities again." Two years ago, it had been: "Becoming an actual supervillain in the process of building a giant suit of armor around the world after his last big breakup, even though everyone we know and everyone they know has confirmed multiple times that Thanos and his army are gone for good." A year ago, it probably would have been something about ignoring Peter's messages and taking a sabbatical around the globe for no reason.

And now? Well… Where does he start?

Making a move while he was drunk had been a bad idea. If Mr. Stark had left it at rejecting Peter then, there wouldn't have been a problem. But, when a supervillain had kidnapped Peter two weeks later, Mr. Stark had swooped in at the last minute -- right before Peter succeeded in freeing _himself_ , thank you very much -- and performed a daring rescue that culminated in an impassioned kiss instead of the expected lecture.

Then, of course, he'd spent the next few weeks avoiding Peter. As much as Peter admires the man -- still hero-worships him, even -- he is in some ways predictable. It's a wonder that Peter managed to track him down at the Avengers complex this weekend.

At the moment, they’re in a deserted office, and Mr. Stark is trying to make it up to him.

"You don’t get it," Peter tells him, frustrated. "I liked the kiss. I wanted it. You don't get to tell me I'm wrong about this."

"Kid--" There are deep, exhausted bags under Mr. Stark's eyes. Peter would feel worse about it if the ones under his own didn't mirror them.

"Don’t call me that. I'm a goddamn adult." He likes the nickname, craves any scrap of affection Mr. Stark will spare, but he's mad right now and anything is ammunition.

"Technically, yes, in the state of New York."

"But not in the state of your mind, is that what you’re saying?" He'll wave his driver's license in Mr. Stark's face if he has to. "Come on, just tell me. Do you want me or not?"

Mr. Stark looks at him for what feels like a long time, assessing. Peter reminds himself that he's legally an adult and as such should not squirm.

"I do," he admits finally. "God help me, I do."

"There. Was that so hard?" says Peter, trying to ignore how it feels like his body and brain are on fire at the same time.

"Tell me what you want," says Mr. Stark. "Whatever it is, I'll do it."

"Just kiss me again," Peter says, and closes his eyes.

The first kiss is hesitant, close-mouthed and chaste. It loosens something in Peter’s chest anyway. The second kiss is softer but no less chaste. Peter almost makes a quip about pecking him to death when Mr. Stark's hand comes up to cup his jaw, his other hand splaying on Peter's back. The next kiss has more force behind it. Peter's lips part.

If Peter were as delicate as some people like to imply he looks, he might just stand there and get kissed. It's nice, if frustrating, to be held in place while Mr. Stark touches his cheek and very gently puts his tongue in his mouth. He's so considerate, so sweetly careful, so unlike his usual self that Peter is at once sure his heart is breaking and also kind of still really mad.

He pushes back. He nips Mr. Stark's fingers and sucks on his lip and thrusts his body into his space, right up against him, so there's no question as to whether he likes this. Mr. Stark's breathing stutters but he keeps kissing Peter. Yeah, he likes it too.

At some point he realizes that he's taken control. He holds Mr. Stark's head with both hands so he can kiss him more deeply, gratified when Mr. Stark gasps into his mouth. He's making stupid noises, but who cares.

He pulls away to kiss Mr. Stark's cheek, then his ear. They're both kind of shaky. Mr. Stark's hands grasp for Peter's back again, clutching as he bends to bite and kiss his neck. Then his clothed chest, then down, down, down --

"What are you doing?"

"Getting you ready for the wet t-shirt contest," says Peter's mouth without his brain's consent. "What does it look like?" He glances down meaningfully.

He looks up and Mr. Stark is gaping at him. "I thought I was supposed to kiss you."

"I changed my mind."

"Uh." Mr. Stark swallows. Peter can practically hear him thinking. "Full speed ahead, then."

Peter maneuvers him against a wall and pins him there. It’s so easy. Why haven’t they done this before? He slaps Mr. Stark’s hands away when he tries to unzip his own jeans. Peter can do that. Peter does it. Peter does some other things too.

He presses his face to Mr. Stark’s bare thigh, sucks in a wobbly breath. This is -- almost too much. A hand settles lightly in his hair, and he shudders.

"Don’t rush. It’s okay to take it slow."

Peter will show him taking it slow. Whatever Mr. Stark thinks, he isn’t some wilting flower; he knows how to handle a dick. He strokes it once, twice, settling one hand at the base. He sucks the tip into his mouth, moans, and bobs his head. He slides down until he can hear Mr. Stark's heartbeat in his groin, then pulls off to gaze in his eyes.

"God, sir, I love your cock," he breathes. Mr. Stark chokes.

He’s almost, _almost_ smiling. Peter allows the corners of his mouth to curve up in response, and gives the head a little kiss before he gets back to it.

Mr. Stark can declaim all day about how old and grizzled and unsuitable he is, but it doesn’t take long for him to come at all. Peter wouldn’t have minded if he took a lot longer, really tired his jaw out.

He’s barely finished swallowing before he's on his feet, propping Mr. Stark up, pressing frantic kisses to every bit of skin he can reach. He's not going to give Mr. Stark time to regret this.

Mr. Stark says, "Wait, kid, wait," and then he says, "Give me a second, holy shit," and then his arms are around Peter and he's petting his back, returning Peter's kisses with breathless kisses of his own.

Peter is so wound up he's going to burst. He exhales hotly into Mr. Stark's neck, unable to stop rutting against his thigh. He can feel his own fingers dig bruises through Mr. Stark's shirt.

Mr. Stark unzips Peter's jeans, fumbles Peter's dick out of his boxers. He's barely touched it before Peter twitches and shakes and comes all over his hand.

They shelter together against the wall for a moment, panting through the aftershocks. Peter is just starting to feel cold and sticky when he risks a glance at Mr. Stark's expression.

Mr. Stark smiles at him and says, "Next time, we’ll actually get you naked."

Relief washes over Peter, even more when he nudges his hand toward Mr. Stark’s and Mr. Stark takes it. He predicts there will be consequences to deal with soon -- tomorrow or next week or five years from now, if not within the hour -- but for now, in this moment, things are all right.


End file.
